Enthralling the Winds!
by Sarah Colbert
Summary: Hi there everyone! I have a little story here. I won't give much away here, but please read, post any feedback and hopefully enjoy!


Nefarian distinctly disliked his current location.

Silithus was certainly no place for a dragon. The scorching desert sun would blister even the most resilient of the lesser races. Roaming bands of dust squalls stormed across the ravaged land; pelting the landscape with chaotic fury. He waited upon the steps of the once-proud temple city: Ahn'Qiraj. Even in his humanoid form and completely alone, Nefarian was by no means helpless.

Once home to the enigmatic and ferocious silithid, they had once called this rundown hellhole the capital of their powerful empire. Nefarian mused that there was probably more to this locale's history, but it mattered not. These entire ruins filled the dragon's black heart with nothing but contempt. He found no joy in the indignity of waiting amongst the debris of a civilization long since destroyed. Still, he had a job to do and would see it through to the end, no matter how utterly tedious the entire affair was.

He was here to enlist the power of the wind itself.

As if on cue, the drake detected the presence of his distinguished guest approach. The atmosphere grew cold as a howling gale descended upon the temple complex. Nefarian resisted the urge to shield his eyes from the swirling particles of sand that his visitor's aura invoked. The crackle of thunder boomed and sparks teemed in the air. As the dust settled, Nefarian's gaze pierced through the confusion and looked upon the creature with unmasked repugnance. Such entrances would be an impressive sight to mortals, but he was in no mood for pageantry today.

Prince Sarsarun, or so he was told, would be the representative he was commanded to meet. The so-called 'Herald of Al'Akir', patron of all the air elementals. He was a swirling vortex of clouds made whole; an embodiment of the air itself. Even for elemantal standards, the Prince was of quite impressive size. The creature was very nearly the equal in stature to the magnificent obelisks that dotted the cityscape. The primordial herald carried with him an aura that craved admiration and respect. Nefarian was going to show him none of that.

"You're late." declared the dragon; the agitation rolling off his words.

The Herald let out a mighty chuckle that shook the surrounding pillars. Sarsarun boomed "Why, you simply must forgive me! You see, I've been quite busy delivering your noble patron's message." The nonchalant tone in which he said it increased the dragon's annoyance.

"Oh? Is that where you were? For you see, I'm at a loss here..." Nefarian was close to losing his temper, struggling to keep his anger in check. He continued "I would have thought that considering the magnanimity of your predicament I would have merited a hasty response, but I suppose that is not the case?"

The elemental prince seemed aloof; staring off in the distance at the once-impressive architecture of Ahn'Qiraj. What must have been the equivalent of a smile claimed Sarsarun's stormy face. Finally acknowledging the figure below him, he responded "My predicament, you say? What might that be precisely, if you please?"

Nefarian's head shook in genuine confusion. He could not decide whether this Herald was simply toying with him or was merely a fool. This disrespectful display might be common towards the pathetic cultists that slaved after these beings, but such insolence was not appropriate to the eldest son of Deathwing.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about, Sarsarun." As an insult, the dragon neglected to address the elemental by his correct title. He kept his voice plain and matter-of-fact as he continued "Al'Akir and the rest of your sorry brethren may think yourself safe from the prying assault of the _brave_ heroes of Azeroth in your Skywall, but my father knows no such boundaries. Safety is no longer a luxury you keep."

With sinister malice Nefarian finished his explanation "Simply put; if your people refuse to aid my lord then he will have no choice but to tear down your sanctuary and bathe your entire realm with his wrath. And make no mistake, fool, he will delight in finishing the battle that the Titans failed to complete."

There was only one person Nefarian felt intimidated by. And this messenger was certainly not that creature. The Prince was about to make a crucial error: doubt the sincerity of the wyrm's threat. "What a bold declaration, my _refined_ friend, yet there is something amiss here." Prince Sarsarun inspected the features of the humanoid standing before him before laughing mockingly. "It would seem inappropriate to treat seriously the veiled threats of ... an undead."

That was it.

Nefarian had fallen once before, it was true, but he was not going to be jeered at by this blustering buffoon. In a heartbeat, Nefarian shed his human figure and dawned his natural form. The colossal drake launched himself at the swirly vortex towering in front of him. Before allowing time to react, the dragon let forth an entrapping blast of shadowflame that enshrouded the creature. It roared in agony; relinquishing the decorated polearm it had once held oh-so proudly. The Prince collapsed backwards as the flames tore away at his form; trying desperately to retaliate but whatever unnatural force Nefarian had called forth was not about to let go any time soon.

"Argh ...ahh ...** ARRRRRRRRGH!**" cried the horrified emissary. The once mighty swarm of air began to collapse in upon itself, gradually threatening to destroy the disrespectful elemental's very essence. Nefarian brandished a wicked grin that displayed a series of razor sharp fangs. Pinning the deteriorating Sarsarun bellow him, Nefarian warmed the messenger "You will inform your lord that if he refuses to cooperate, then mark my words this day, my patriarch will see that your precious Skywall be torn down and your sorry race extinguished from this miserable world. Am I making myself clear?"

"Y-yes, his will be done! Just ... relinquish me, for I will not be contained!" responded the dying Prince. It finally dawned upon the elemental that this was truly the end: Azeroth churned as Deathwing's return steadily approached. He was coming soon.

Finally starting to enjoy himself, an idea sprung in Nefarian's brain. As easily as it was for him to overpower Sarsarun, there was a task that he would be aptly suited to. The noble Stormwind contained something that would be essential to the wyrm's greatest triumph. Ah yes, the mighty 'Herald of Al'Akir' would prove useful for this one final task.

"My _dearest friend_, there is something you're going to want to do for me..."


End file.
